


Bloodlust

by VitricHearts



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Blatant Gayness, I think I was high, Lacks reasoning. Completely., Literal Bloodlust, M/M, Mixed feelings, No Plot/Plotless, OOCness, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitricHearts/pseuds/VitricHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ah, but you should know, Hinata-kun…</p><p>“So sweet is the Hope flowing within your veins…</p><p>“You really could not blame me if I were to devour you alive.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodlust

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Alexis, who has eagerly gotten into the DR fandom if only to be subjected to my hopeless KomaHina ranting. Thank you for being such an amazing friend, and I love you.
> 
> So here's a bit of insane!Nagito fanservice, based on English voice-acting and Japanese game-play. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated and heeded. Do enjoy. xx

_“May I?”_

 

And his eyes were dark with such a newfound focus that Hinata could not bear to pull his aching hand away. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, unsure.

 

**“I… I don’t think…”**

 

His speech weighed down with peaking uncertainty as Komaeda, disinterested in words, turned Hinata’s palm upwards for better inspection. An expressionless gaze examined the long serration that marred the width of his hand, the rift in his quivering flesh dark and glowering and overflowing with pink fluid that seeped along every pale inch of his skin.

 

And yet, the problem was not that Hinata was cut and bleeding stoutly. Neither was it the torturous throbbing, nor the feeling of augmenting light-headedness in the passing moment- although he knew this was not a positive sensation. Rather, the broiling intensity lingering in Komaeda’s eyes as he observed this wound is what frightened him the most. It was impossible to discern the other’s exact thoughts, but a borderline predatory gaze was enough to recognize the other’s intentions, and this he regarded with utmost disbelief.

 

Unnatural. Unnatural in every sense of the word.

 

**“No. I don’t think so.”**

 

Hinata began to wrench his hand away, flinching at the pressure of a resistant grip before Komaeda finally let go. His gaze rose slowly to merge with Hinata’s, and he felt an anxious pang at how much darker Komaeda’s eyes appeared. Atramentous lashes skewed against the whites of his eyes, framing irises a dangerous shade of slate.

 

The expression he made was borderline seductive, but Hinata was not fooled.

 

**“I know what you’re thinking. That’s crazy. Disgusting.”**

 

_“Is it…?”_

 

Komaeda smirked indifferently and tilted his head, shifting closer. His eyes, still just as narrowed, dimly reflected the blood on the hand that Hinata cradled before him. His irises developed a cerise hue, extrinsic.

 

_“Normally, I would never force you to consent to my pitiful suggestions, but…”_

 

His greyish stare flickered downwards, testily. Hinata’s palm burned. The thought was too scary to bear.

 

**“No. No way.”**

 

Hinata pulled a face, both in utter exasperation and as a way of tolerating the pain. Komaeda sighed in response.

 

_“Don’t get me wrong, Hinata-kun. I’m merely offering to help you clean up…”_

 

**“ _Clean up_? You’re joking, right?”**

 

Komaeda opted to ignore the brunet then, his expression bored as took to his knees in front of him, leaning over and lifting his hand by the wrist. Hinata immediately opened his mouth to protest, but was taken aback by Komaeda’s lowered gaze, wistful yet barren. A dark undertone settled in his voice, far too unfeeling to be received calmly.

 

_“…I can’t help it; I’m disappointed. You completely fail to understand what this might mean to someone like me.”_

 

Reverent fingertips glided over the markings of blood, dried trails of droplets that criss-crossed over the pale skin of his wrist. Hinata gritted his teeth and trembled at the sensation.

 

_“The blood of an Ultimate, pointlessly shed. Seemingly so, and yet…”_

 

Ashen eyes, psychotic, smothered up at him.

 

_“You won’t allow me this?”_

 

Stunned, Hinata sought to respond, but Komaeda had already raised the brunet’s hand to his mouth, unrelenting. Soft lips embraced his inner wrist, cold and keen, striking against his flaming skin. His ochre gaze held so intently that in that moment Hinata, wide-eyed, hardly thought to push the other away.

 

Uninhibited, Komaeda’s mouth wandered languidly up across his wrist, eye-contact sustained until muzzled into Hinata’s wounded palm. Hinata flinched at the ghostly exhale that settled against his sensitive skin, the subsequent draught disquieting. Komaeda closed his eyes mid-breath, shuddering, as though the sheer scent of Hinata’s blood immersed him in ecstasy- as though engrossed in worship.

 

_“It’s not so bad, is it?”_

 

Hinata looked down, nervously, and Komaeda had quietly stationed his tainted hand within his own so that it cupped his sallow cheek. A silky smile graced his lips, hopeful and pleasant, and Hinata had to look away before that agonizing stare turned him to stone.

 

Unsurprisingly, Komaeda understood the brunet’s uneasiness, but seemed only amused by it, chuckling quietly under his breath before he brought Hinata’s hand back to his mouth. When this was followed by a moment’s idle pause, Hinata dared look at him again. He was both unnerved and fascinated by the gentle quiver of Komaeda’s eyelashes, the pupils they bordered dilated and focused. And then, just as slowly, Komaeda’s mouth began to move along the contours of his palm again, his lips dancing softly and elegantly apart, and then--

 

**“Ah--!”**

 

His voice uncontained; the feeling was cold and wet and thin in response to the hot blare of his injured nerves. Komaeda’s tongue slipped out, deliberate and leisurely, tracing soft, moist circles across the surface of his damaged skin. In an instant Hinata made to draw his hand back, but his wrist was gripped inescapably. His legs shook, and he dropped to his knees, defeated.

 

Fully engaged, Komaeda did not hesitate, sucking and biting lightly at his thumb, coating Hinata's skin with saliva in place of prior blood stains. His tongue further emerged to scale flatly across the expanse of Hinata’s hand, catching into the flayed flesh of his injury and causing Hinata to wince in immense pain. This must have opened the wound somewhat further, because Komaeda’s grip became tighter, and he made some gratifying noise at what was undoubtedly the electrifying taste of fresh blood. It was absolutely sickening.

 

It seemed forever that he knelt licking at Hinata’s palm, unable to break until every glistening droplet and smear of blood had been lapped up. Hoary eyes closed in a most delicate bliss, Hinata winced tiredly as the wet sensation began to gently trace along the lesion once more, his mind lost to strange lilting thoughts only Nagito Komaeda could induce. When his soiled tongue was finally drawn back into his mouth, the laceration was no longer quite so vivid; all that was left was a raw, gleaming cut that the brunet looked upon remorsefully.

 

Hinata spoke, voice reduced to a pathetic whisper.

 

**“You’re insane.”**

 

Komaeda’s shameless expression told him he did not care.

 

_“Hmm, am I…? Stay still. I missed a spot.”_

 

Hinata shuddered at the familiar tongue that dipped purposefully between the joints of his fingers, rounding the remainder of his bloody digits with such precision and tantalizing slowness that his heart swelled profoundly.

 

It hurt.

 

Drowned in a crude mixture of fear and temptation, he could only watch with erratic breathing as Komaeda finished slowly and with a broad lick across his wrist, his stormy eyes dimmed with a gratification that both disgusted and excited Hinata to the centre of his marrow. He spoke wistfully, and the fluoro-pink substance drizzled down his chin in time with taken, insane words.

 

_“Ah, but you should know, Hinata-kun…_

_“So sweet is the Hope flowing within your veins…_

_“You really could not blame me if I were to devour you alive.”_

 

Throat constricted and head dizzied, Hinata’s tolerance was spent.

 

**“…That’s enough.”**

 

 He withdrew his trembling hand then, released smoothly as though the organ had never been clung to in the first place. Bewildered, Hinata looked down at his unfortunate limb, marred by Komaeda’s unloving touch, stinging under layers of dried spit. A hand rendered this disgusting ought to be amputated, he felt. Lost, he lifted his gaze once more, to stare at the subject of his torture, and Komaeda happily licked at his own fingers and lips, as though quietly savouring the lasting moment. He caught Hinata’s gaze, his eyes doe-like, and flashed him a gracious smile.

 

Hinata could not help but absently wonder:

 

Are you finally satisfied?

 

Komaeda opened his mouth as though to answer, but he was not heard.

 

**“I don’t understand you at all.”**

**Author's Note:**

> On a final note...  
> Honestly, I feel as though this piece is abrupt, rather nonsensical and doesn't flow quite right, but I was very tired with it (my computer really did not look forward to its completion, deleting my work more than once and causing me to almost rage-quit), so I posted it as is. Thanks for reading it anyway. Much appreciated. xx


End file.
